


(Shudder) Before the Beautiful

by Subtlety Lost (fishstic)



Series: Named for Andraste [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Andrea is a love-sick puppy and so is Josephine, Backstory, F/F, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Sad with a Happy Ending, all of these are references or implied references, but neither of them have enough courage on their own, see notes for additional information, to just talk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-23
Updated: 2020-01-23
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:28:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22371829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fishstic/pseuds/Subtlety%20Lost
Summary: The longer Andrea stays in Haven, the more she regrets the day her eldest brother took the throne in Ostwick--as that was the day she lost contact with the person she loved most in the world--and the more she begins to wonder if maybe it truly was Divine Intervention that led her to Haven in the first place. Not necessarily because she's supposed to save the world, she thinks, but rather because now she has a chance to change her fate and win back the woman she lost to her brother's bigotry so long ago.Once, when she was young and selfish, Lady Josephine Montilyet accused her mother of lying because of something she hadn't even understood the significance of. With no knowledge of the bigotry that tore them apart, she continued for years attempting to contact the love she'd lost the day Tomas Trevelyan took the throne. Now fate has seen to it that that woman is back in her life, but she's changed so much. Josephine isn't sure she even wants the answer to why the love was lost between them.
Relationships: Female Inquisitor/Josephine Montilyet, Josephine Montilyet/Female Trevelyan
Series: Named for Andraste [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1310834
Comments: 2
Kudos: 26





	(Shudder) Before the Beautiful

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to everyone who kudos or comments on these fics. I really appreciate y'all. 
> 
> I'm pretty sure I still suck at summaries.

Andrea sighed to herself, hesitantly, as she stared at the door in front of her. She’d walked all this way, from her little cottage—though honestly she was unsure if calling that little house a cottage was giving it too much credit—for the sole reason of trying to speak to Jos—Lady Montilyet. _Maker, this shouldn’t be so hard._

It had been over a week since she’d spoken to Leliana of her past with Josephine, since she’d requested Leliana send someone to retrieve her younger brother. She wanted some connection, some anchor to remind herself that things would turn out alright. Something to encourage her that, despite the giant hole in the sky that she had _failed_ to close, things would get better. She needed, she felt, if nothing else someone who cared about _her_ and saw past the facade that the “Herald of Andraste” likely truly was. _If the Maker really did choose me, if Andraste was really involved... why does everything hurt so much? Why is is all so complicated._

She stared at the door, though she was far enough from actually touching it that if someone wanted to open it, they had more than enough room. _What do I even say? You have my most sincere apologies Lady Josephine, for not speaking to you for so long. I almost died, and my tyrant of an older brother is dead set against my letters ever reaching you. Would she even believe it?_

She was only aware of the person behind her because of the hand they placed on her shoulder, and almost instinctively she twisted around to hit them. “Do _not—”_ she stopped short when she saw the familiarly shocking reddish brown hair of her little brother—though to call the man little now would be doing him a great disservice. He was nearly as tall as her cousin Ella, reaching a height of 177cm, which was nearly 10 cm taller than her. A fact which annoyed her, because she was always taller than him growing up.

“I’m sure the door isn’t going to bite you, dear sister,” Jack said, flashing her a smile and then motioning her to the side. “Allow me if you’re so frightened of the door.”

“No!” she squeaked, then covered her face in embarrassment as Mother Giselle flashed her a sincere soft smile. The poor mother had been subjected to Andrea’s rambling about her fear that Jos—Lady Montilyet wouldn’t like her anymore for the better part of an hour before she’d simply told Andrea ‘You will never know, if you never try.’

“What’s the matter, dear sister,” Jack teased. “Did you not send that... ‘definitely not actually here to conscript me’ Grey-Warden to bring me to Haven from Ostwick?” He smiled and ruffled her hair slightly. “You know, in a way, I’m lucky. Because I never bothered to try to join any of the Fraternities, I was... free, we’ll say, from having to deal with most of the obligations that come from being a Trevelyan. Lucky that I have such a talent for healing, or I’d probably have ended up under the same—we’ll just say ‘strict’ watch as Cousin Aydan. You know, I heard our youngest aunt had two mage children, twins. Sarisse and Cyrus. I don’t know that they were in the Ostwick circle, I heard it rumored they were involved with the rebellion in Kirkwall, though I’m pretty sure they ended up in Tantervale, not Kirkwall.”

“Sarisse was sent to Kinloch Hold shortly after the Fifth Blight, shortly before the whole rebellion started. Cyrus was sent to Orlais, though last I heard he didn’t stay at the Monsimmard circle for too long before sweet-talking himself into getting a transfer to Kinloch Hold to be with his sister,” Andrea replied, and at the extremely confused look on his face, she continued, “I had the Spymaster look into it for me. She knows several mages who were formerly at the Kinloch circle, and she has contacts... everywhere. I don’t like not knowing where our family is. Did you hear that Evelyn and her husband had a baby? We’ve got a niece and we’ll likely never even get to meet her. Nevarra is so far away.”

After a moment of silence, she sighed. “It’s been so... difficult, here, Jack. I got so used to you being around after you and your healer friends started working so closely with the Chantry when the rebellion started. Remind me again, why you made that decision instead of heading off with the other mages to fight.”

“Honestly?” he replied, more a question than a statement.

“Honestly, Jack, you know how much I hate being lied to.”

“Tomas has such a tight rein on the docks, that I couldn’t get passage out of Ostwick without putting my fellow healers in danger, so I just found us some honest work,” he replied. “The Chantry was willing to let us stay, to offer our services. Especially after it was our help that saved your life.”

Andrea nodded. “Thank you,” she replied quietly. “I don’t think I’ve said it enough, but thank you.”

“Andrea, it was _my_ fight that nearly got you killed, you shouldn’t thank me,” he argued.

“You saved my life, Jack, and as stupid as it might sound to you, if you hadn’t almost killed me, I wouldn’t be here today.”

Jack opened his mouth to reply then closed it, and moved to the side, slightly, with Andrea following his movement instinctively as an Orlesian nobleman in a weirdly squarish yellow mask with a ridiculous mustache on it walked past them, and into Josephine’s office. “I’m going to have to say, Andrea, that that’s not stupid, but it _definitely_ did not make any sense.”

“If you hadn’t tried to defend me, hadn’t challenged Tomas to that duel for my ability to leave the city, I would have never been able to rejoin the Chantry,” she explained. “If I’d never done that, I wouldn’t be here now. I wouldn’t have the opportunity I do now. And I wouldn’t... I’d never get the chance...” she sighed as she glanced at the door again.

“Something important is behind that door,” Jack noted. “Someone important?”

Andrea nodded slightly.

“Someone you love?”

Andrea nodded again, though somehow more slight. Fearfully even. _What if she doesn’t love me anymore? What if she never did?_

“Oh I get it,” Jack whispered. “It’s the Lady Josie isn’t it? You finally get to see her again, and you’re scared. It can’t be all that difficult. If you know she’s here, then she _definitely_ knows you’re here. Come on, Andrea, don’t leave her waiting forever in the cold. Mama Sylvia said she _cried_ when she stopped receiving letters from you. I tried to convince Mama Sylvia to get Josephine to send you letters addressed to me or the Revered Mother Emmaline, but if that happened, we still never received them.”

“I... Josephine was sending letters?” Andrea replied. “Wait, she wasn’t getting mine either?” she cursed slightly under her breath.

“That’s what Mama Sylvia said. Josephine was sending letters we never received, and you were sending letters that never made it out of Ostwick,” Jack explained. “I’m thinking Tomas intercepted, and likely burned, all of them.”

“I’m going to kill him,” Andrea hissed. “When this whole thing is over, when the Inquisition is no longer needed. I’m going back to Ostwick and I’m going to kill that tyrant.”

Jack shook his head. “You’d be killed in a second. No offense, but you know he doesn’t fight fair.”

“Here’s the difference between him and I, Jack,” Andrea replied. “I have allies, all he has are people he’s forced to do his bidding through threats and promises of gold that are never fulfilled.”

“Even with your allies, which are... whom, exactly? Mama Sylvia and Mama Trevelyan? The Chantry? You won’t be able to oust Tomas the same way he ousted Father,” Jack replied. “And taking him down any other way would cripple Ostwick.”

“Mama and Papa Trevelyan _hate_ Tomas,” Andrea replied. “Ruka, Allan, Elissa, Aydan, Olivia and all her siblings, Aunt Marie, Father’s younger siblings and all their kids. Katelyn and her siblings too. Everyone hates Tomas. The only support he has is Uncle Alex. If we could somehow take that away, encourage Father to try for the throne again...”

“You’d be no better off now than you were before the duel,” Jack replied. “Tomas has us all out played.”

“If this is nothing more to him than some stupid game then I’ll just have to learn to play from the best,” Andrea replied.

“What do you mean?”

“Sister Nightingale, the Inquisition’s Spymaster, and our Lady Josephine. They are the best at playing The Game. It’s all politics and poison: Words and inflection, intonation, meaning hidden behind a mask of a fake smile, a charm, the soft sounds of ‘yes, please’ and ‘I believe you are mistaken’ and ‘Allow me to explain.’ The kindness of a knife in the dark when it’s least expected and most needed. Jack, brother, if there is any one skill I should be able to learn without effort, it’s the political poison of the Orlesian Grand Game.”

Jack shook his head. “The last thing any of us need is you learning to be Orlesian. Please, just talk to the Lady Josephine, tell her if nothing else that you’re still alive and you still love her. You _do_ still love her, don’t you?”

Andrea nodded. “With all my heart.”

“Then talk to her,” Jack replied.

“I...” Andrea shook her head. “I can’t.”

“Sister, nothing is ever going to happen if you don’t have a little bit of courage,” Jack replied. “What happened to the charming young vixen who stabbed our beloved Uncle for daring lay a hand on the Lady Josephine? Did the fox die inside the Chantry? Did the wiles get left behind when you walked out of the Fade? Andrea... please, if there’s really, actually something wrong, something hurting you, please talk to me. Don’t let all the pain and weight of what you’re going through crush you underneath it. You’ll get sick again. I... Andrea, forget about the whole world right now, _I_ can’t lose you. You’re the only thing any of us have left of Mom. You have her eyes, her hair, her smile, her laugh.”

“Her necklace,” Andrea added, pulling the object out from underneath her shirt. It was a curious thing, just a small locket with a sapphire on the front, and inside was a small sharp tooth, from some sort of animal, affixed to the inside back of the locket with two strips of the same metal the locket was made from.

“She gave you her necklace?” Jack asked then shook his head, as if that didn’t actually matter at the moment, which it probably didn’t. “Sandra wouldn’t want you to stand here wallowing in the pain of playing a game of ‘what if’ with yourself until the whole world collapses on you because you couldn’t find an answer to all of them without asking, and you were too afraid to ask. Mom wouldn’t want that either.”

Andrea winced. _Sandra. She died at the conclave. If... if... there had to have been something I could have done to save her. She... she’s dead and..._ “What if... What if...” she sighed and bit her lip, then turned to the door. “What if I never talk to her and Josephine spends the rest of her life thinking I hate her? That’s a question I cannot bear to see the result of.”

“Are you going to speak to her?” Jack asked. “I know it’s been years, and it’s quite a long time to be apart. What will you say to her?”

“I... don’t know, but something needs to be said,” Andrea replied. “Wish me luck.”

“Oh but didn’t that—”

“I’m sure the Ambassador can think of some way to spin my interruption into a good thing,” Andrea replied. “I have to deal with the rest of the nobility at some point, might as well start with whatever, likely distinctly Orlesian, problem has come up so early.”

“I’ll... wait here?” Jack replied.

“It’s better if you work out something to do, there’s no telling how long this might take. See if Mother Giselle here has any work for you, then come by a bit later and I’ll see about the arrangements for where you’ll stay,” Andrea replied.

“I figured I’d just sleep on your floor,” Jack replied.

Andrea turned to reprimand him for daring think she’d treat him that poorly, even in a place as remote and barren as Haven, but when she looked up at his face he was grinning.

“I’m only joking, Sister, no need to look so offended,” he added. “I’ll steal your bed when you’re not using it for now, until other arrangements are made.”

“I suppose that works,” Andrea replied. “There will be a lot of times I won’t be in Haven. I am the only one who can close the Fade Rifts after all.”

“Fade Rifts,” Jack replied. “We know so little about what the Inquisition is actually doing in Ostwick, half the family is clambering to claim you as their Favorite, declaring allegiances to you and the Inquisition that make Tomas very nervous. While some are falling in line behind Alex and Tomas’ claims that the Inquisition is nothing more than a desperate bid for the Seekers to grab power while the Templars and Mages kill each other. They believe the Inquisition responsible for the death of the Divine, and claim that to hold any allegiance to you or the Inquisition is heresy.”

“Unfortunately, for now, the Chantry agrees,” Andrea sighed. “We have much to talk about, little brother, but for now, see if Mother Giselle could use another healer. Barring that, speak with Seeker Penteghast, I know we have some mages in our ranks, she can point you to them, and perhaps you can help them train?”

For a moment, Jack did not reply, then he nodded and hugged Andrea tightly. “You sound all grown up right now,” he said. “All those years learning from Revered Mother Emmaline how to be in charge really worked out for you.”

“Jack, let go, you’re squishing me,” Andrea replied though she was smiling at the praise.

“What can I say,” Jack replied. “I’m really proud of you.”

“How about you say, ‘yes, Sister, of course I’ll let you go so you can breathe,’” Andrea replied.

Jack released Andrea from the hug quickly. “Oh Maker, you were serious about me squishing you?” he asked as Andrea straightened out her shirt and smoothed down her hair. “I didn’t think I was that strong.”

“Maybe it’s less about how strong you are, and more about how easily squished I am?” Andrea replied. “I’m happy you’re here, Jack,” she added. “It really does mean a lot to me. I have to talk to Josephine now though, come back after you’re finished with whatever task you’re going to do.”

Jack nodded. “So this nice lady over here is Mother Giselle, right? Can she answer questions about Haven and the state of things?”

“I’m sure she’d try,” Andrea replied. “I’d suggest seeing if she needs help with anything first. Show you’re willing to put in some effort, and she might be more willing to answer whatever questions you might have.” As her brother walked around her, to head over to Mother Giselle, Andrea stopped him briefly by grabbing his hand. “Thank you, Jack, for lending me some of your courage.”

“For you, Sister, I’ll lend all the courage in the world,” Jack replied.

Andrea nodded and let him go, then turned back to the door. She took a deep breath, and opened the door. “Jose—”

The nobleman’s distaste for Andrea’s interruption was palpable, even despite the mask that hid his face from view.

“Do you—” Josephine started then looked over to see who had thought themselves worthy enough to interrupt her meeting. “Ah, Marquis, allow me to introduce you to the brave woman who risked her life to slow the magic of the Breach. Lady Andrea Trevelyan of Ostwick, this is the Marquis DuRellion.”

“Charmed,” Andrea replied with a small bow. She wasn’t quite sure what she was supposed to say at a moment like this. She’d never really been expected to say anything during introductions when she was younger, just smile and nod politely and the people wouldn’t, generally, look too hard or comment too much about how she ‘hisses’ the letter s, or about how she has to squint to read if the letters are small. ‘Give them nothing they can use against you,’ Sandra used to tell her.

“A pleasure,” the Marquis replied then turned his attention back to Josephine. “As the rightful owner of Haven, I cannot allow this Inquisition to stay. House DuRellion lent Justinia these lands for a pilgrimage, this Inquisition is not beneficiary of that arrangement.”

Andrea straightened up immediately. She squared her shoulders, not really looking for a fight but not willing to let herself or Josephine be intimidated out of the only place of sanctuary the Inquisition currently had. “This is the first I’ve heard of Haven having an owner outside of the Chantry.”

The Marquis took a slightly step backwards and stammered, “My wife—” for a second before recovering his composure. “My wife, Lady Machen of Denerim, has claims to this land through ancient treaty with the kings of Ferelden.”

“Then shouldn’t she have—” Andrea began but Josephine placed a hand on her arm as some sort of warning and she stopped.

“You’ve come at an inopportune time, Marquis,” Josephine replied, a statement with significantly less controversy in it than what Andrea had wanted to say about how the Marquis should let his wife handle her own family affairs. “More of the faithful flock here every day.”

“Regardless,” the Marquis argued, “the Inquisition cannot remain, Ambassador, if it cannot prove it was founded on Justinia’s orders.”

Andrea crossed her arms and shook her head. “Interesting, since it was founded by the Left and Right hands of the Divine. If any could claim to know Justinia’s will, would it not be them?”

“Yet neither Seeker Pentaghast, nor Sister Leliana have provided any written proof that Justinia authorized this,” the Marquis replied.

“Convenient statement,” Andrea replied, “but factually incorrect. Seeker Pentaghast has possession of the Writ of the Divine, a very large weighty charter granting her and Leliana the authority to act upon this matter, signed not only by Divine Justinia, but by Divine Beatrix before her as well.”

“Still, if the Marquis will not take her at her word,” Josephine offered, “then I’m afraid Cassandra simply _must_ challenge him to a duel. It’s a matter of honor among the Nevarrans. Should I arrange the bout for tonight?”

“Now, now, let’s not be too hasty,” the Marquis replied quickly, backpedaling on all his earlier protests. “Perhaps I was a little too... quick, in my dismissal. If this Writ of the Divine truly exists, why has no one outside the Inquisition seen it?”

Andrea shrugged, though she did have an idea. “Aside from the fact that that statement is also, technically incorrect, as Chancellor Roderick has seen it. If someone wanted to, let’s say, destroy some of the legitimacy the Inquisition has, and this Writ was on prominent display as one of the main sources of that legitimacy, would they not simply burn the Writ?”

“These are trying times, Marquis,” Josephine added. “But Justinia would not want her passing to divide us. She would instead encourage us to work together to overcome these obstacles.”

Andrea bit her lip, wanting to make some kind of final comment but knowing nothing she could say would come close to the beauty of Josephine’s diplomatic words.

“I will think on it, Lady Montilyet, Lady Trevelyan. The Inquisition might stay in the meanwhile.” He bowed slightly then left. Andrea almost didn’t notice when Minaeve followed him out, closing the door behind them.

“Do the DuRellions actually have a claim over this place, or does that really only extend so far as Lady Machen is willing to press the issue?” Andrea asked, after he was gone. “I’m pretty sure if the Chantry didn’t actually own Haven that should have came up in my studies with the Chantry back in Ostwick.”

“His Grace’s position is not so strong as he presents,” Josephine replied. “Lady Machen might be from Denerim, and yes maybe her family actually does have a legitimate claim to the land Haven was built upon, but make no mistake about it—the DuRellions are Orlesian. If the Marquis wishes to claim Haven, Empress Celene must negotiate with Ferelden on his behalf. I’m afraid her current concerns are quite a bit larger than this at the moment.”

Andrea nodded, though she was silent for several moments as she contemplated how best to word the apology she had come there to make. _What if she doesn’t want to hear my excuses?_

“Did you come here for a reason, Lady Trevelyan?” Josephine asked.

Andrea winced at hearing such a formal version of her name pass Josephine’s lips when they were the only two present. “Please, just call me Andrea, like you used to? I would ever so much prefer that, Lady Josephine.”

“Ah, but only if you call me Josie, like _you_ used to,” Josephine countered. “Did you come here for a reason, Andrea?”

“I... feel like I owe you an apology, Josie,” Andrea replied. “An apology and an explanation.”

“What could you have to apologize for?” Josephine asked.

“I feel like I gave you the impression that I no longer cared about you, that somewhere in our years of lost contact, I had forgotten about you,” Andrea replied, barely taking time to process her own thoughts into logical sentences beyond those words.

“I tried to write to you, Josie. I really tried. I sent so many letters. There were points when Revered Mother Emmaline would take my quill away, I’d written so much that my one of my fingers started to bleed, and you could hardly tell where my hand ended and the writing began from how many times I’d smudge the ink and make myself start over. Tomas—after he forced Father off the throne—he started intercepting all the letters I’d send to you... Jack said he probably burned them.”

“Why would he do that?” Josephine gasped.

Andrea couldn’t tell if the disbelief stemmed more from Josephine not believing that Tomas would be so cruel to his youngest sister, not understanding the reasons he might have for denying them contact, or not believing her about any of what she’d just said being true. _What do I say? I have no idea why he did that. I know the thought of me marrying Josephine angered him enough that he banned me from being able to leave Ostwick because I stated my intention to ask for her hand in marriage. But I don’t understand why it did. “_ Because...” _How do you explain something you don’t even know the actual reasoning behind?_

“Are you alright, Andrea?” Josephine asked softly. “You look like you’re about to cry.”

Andrea shook her head slightly and bit her lip. “This was a mistake,” she whispered. “I don’t have all the answers, I shouldn’t have come until I did. Please, I’m sorry, forget I said anything. I’ll come back when I know what I’m trying to say.” She turned to leave but before she’d even taken a step, Josephine grabbed her hand, stopping her cold. She couldn’t bear to pull away from Josephine.

“Andrea, don’t do this to me,” Josephine whispered harshly, halfway begging. “Please, don’t. I don’t want to lose you again.” There was a sharp intake of breath, but Andrea couldn’t bear turning to see if Josephine was also almost about to cry. She never liked seeing Josephine cry. It always made her soul ache deep inside to see her best friend in any kind of pain.

“When your letters stopped coming, I thought something truly terrible had happened. I thought I’d lost you forever and I’d never get to say a last goodbye. I kept trying, for years, to get a letter to you. To do something, that someone would reply to. To get some kind of answer. When Lady Trevelyan stopped inviting the Montilyets to her parties, I was _positive_ something must have happened.”

Andrea turned then, intent upon explaining the reason that Great Aunt Lucielle had stopped inviting the Montilyets was because she’d stopped hosting the parties after getting very sick one year, but her words fell short before her throat when she saw the tears in Josephine’s eyes.

“For years, I kept trying. Despite all the evidence that I’d never like what I’d find, that I’d never get to say a last goodbye to you,” Josephine said, biting her lip then, and taking a few steadying breaths, though she was trembling fiercely. “I kept trying. Searching Ostwick, through all my contacts, turned up nothing but rumors. Rumors of a duel you’d been involved in, a duel you _lost._ I was _sure_ you were dead. Then a lone letter reached me, from Leliana, while I was studying in Orlais.

“I’d met her when I was in University—that’s a story for a different time. That letter said very little. Nothing more than that a little songbird told her that the Trevelyan girl I so desperately sought, was likely the same one—mysteriously silent to any inquiry of her name—that sat at the right hand of the Revered Mother of Ostwick’s Chantry. A strange, beautiful young woman whose shoulders seemed to carry upon them the weight of the entire future as she worked along side the Revered Mother. I thought, _surely_ that must be Andrea. It _must_ be you.”

She shook her head. “But even so, even addressing the letters directly to the Revered Mother, or to your brother Jack, as my mother suggested I should. It was like writing to a stone wall. No reply ever came. No indication anyone had ever received the letter. Not even a cursory response of ‘sorry, but the person you’re trying to write to isn’t here.’”

A soft smile graced Josephine’s lips, an apology in its own right, though for what, Andrea wasn’t sure. “When I learned you likely were still alive... I did believe, yes, for a while, that maybe you had forgotten about me. It had been years, we were no longer the blushing giggling little girls our mothers adored doting upon. I was... older, wiser, and I assumed you the same. I never once blamed you, or thought anything bad against you, for forgetting me. In the end, I thought it like all other childhood friendships forged at parties, fleeting moments of youth we all eventually outgrow. Yes, it hurt like nothing else to think of it like that, but everything I could figure out pointed to you being extremely happy inside the Chantry. Like a flower moved from a pot to a garden, allowed to blossom fully for the first time. The Chantry was always where you were meant to be, and somewhere inside I knew that.”

“Josie—”

“I was prepared, I thought, to never see you again,” Josephine replied, not allowing Andrea time to counter anything she said. “But then I saw you, here, in Haven. With your siblings, smiling though I could see a pain in it that they seemed to ignore. I saw you glance my way, I saw the way you looked at me, almost like you thought you were seeing a ghost. I should have approached you then. I should have spoken. But Sandra pulled you away, saying something that I did not hear, and soon you were leaving for the journey to the Temple and I was left behind. For a while, I was okay. I knew I’d be able to speak with you once the Conclave was over. Once whatever decision would be made up there, was made, you’d come back down.”

“Josie, I—” Andrea began but fell short of actually saying anything. Nothing felt strong enough, nothing felt like enough. Anything she could say would fail to ease Josephine’s pain in a measurable way. She knew the pain well, the pain of losing someone you love, of thinking you might get them back, only to lose them again. That’s how it had been for her when her mother got sick.

“And I’d... well, it’s a bit silly to think of it, but I intended to treat you. To show you all the ways in which you _definitely_ were not seeing a ghost. But... but, but then the explosion happened. I was _sure_ I’d just lost you, for real. And I was so full of every kind of regret that a person can feel. It burned, and ached, and then they brought you down. Chained you, imprisoned you. The sole survivor. Spat like to say your name would be to curse everyone in Haven. I knew they were wrong.They _had_ to be wrong.

“After you awoke, there was little chance, I never got to speak to you, they took you straight to the fighting. You needed to help, to prove your innocence, even if it killed you. I never got to tell you goodbye, or wish you luck, or anything. You slowed the breach, and it almost killed you. Andrea, please. Don’t do this to me. Don’t walk away. Don’t—I can’t lose you again. It hurts so much more than I ever knew I could, to think of all the times I lost you, and to have you within my grasp only to feel you slipping away because of some pain inside you that you refuse to speak of.”

Andrea bit her lip, the pain of Josephine’s words, combined with the pain in her voice, and on her face, was almost too much for her to bear. She wished she could just curl up in a ball and cry for her. Maybe if she could just curl up and cry it all out, the way she used to, maybe she’d feel a bit less like she’d just gotten punched in the gut with feelings that she barely understood. Finally she picked out one thing to focus on, like Mama Sylvia had always told her to do.

“The duel,” she said. “That first thing you heard of that convinced you I might have died.”

Josephine nodded. “What about it?”

“I know what it refers to,” Andrea replied. “What they’re talking about. The duel wasn’t something I was... willingly a participant in.”

“I don’t understand,” Josephine replied. “If you weren’t a participant, how did you lose?”

“I didn’t say I wasn’t a participant, I said I wasn’t a _willing_ participant,” Andrea argued. She sighed, not wanting to argue with Josephine over anything, even something as simple as how a sentence was worded. “It was a duel between Tomas and Jack... because of me. I had left home. I was going to the docks, the whole time Jack and Tomas followed, arguing with me over my decision. Jack supported me, Tomas vehemently did not.”

“Might I ask what exactly your decision was?” Josephine replied.

“It... it sounds really stupid, thinking of it now,” Andrea replied. “I was going to Antiva.”

“To... Antiva?” Josephine asked. “Running away from home is something I could understand you wanting to do, but why Antiva? Wouldn’t you have had better luck going to Nevarra to live with Evelyn?”

“Ah, but you were never in Nevarra,” Andrea replied. “I was... because our letters never reached one another after Tomas took the throne, I didn’t know you had left Antiva to study in Orlais. My intention was to go to Antiva, since all my attempts at convincing you to come back to Ostwick had seemingly failed—I was not aware that the letters never made it out of Ostwick until Jack informed me of just that a few minutes before I walked in here—I decided the next best thing to do was to go to Antiva—to go to you, myself.”

“But why was it so important to you that you find me?” Josephine asked. “Surely by... how long ago was this duel anyway?”

“The duel only happened six years ago, it feels simultaneously like just yesterday and an entire lifetime ago,” Andrea replied. “I was... well, I was planning on surprising you. I’d been reading a lot of books, aside from the works I’d read in the Chantry, I was never very good at reading, but sometimes Sandra would come home and read to me when her Templar duties permitted it. She could get all kinds of books that we never could at home. She read me romance serials, some of which may or may not have been written by some dwarf that we know who carries a crossbow nearly as big as himself.”

“Oh I’m sure Varric would be very interested to hear that his romance serials were the cause of a duel in Ostwick,” Josephine teased.

“Very funny, but no, they weren’t the cause. I was... I had intended, with your mother’s permission and your father’s if necessary, to formally request of you... well...” she blushed hotly, despite the fact that she knew she needn’t be shy around a woman who had not only been her first real kiss, but her second, third, and fourth ones as well. “I was going to ask... if you’d be willing to give me a second chance. I wanted to do it all proper.”

“A... second chance?”

Andrea nodded. “A chance to _properly_ romance you, not the... stifled and stilted love affair of our youth, the stolen kisses on the balcony, the moments alone reading to each other in the library instead of dancing in the ballroom, the glances and laughter interrupted by siblings and younger cousins, none of that. Something much... with more meaning. I wanted a second chance, a chance to show you that I truly loved you. A chance to ask: ‘My dearest Lady Josephine, would you do me the honor of marrying me?’”

Josephine blushed hotly and bit her lip, a sight that never failed to make Andrea’s heart skip a beat. “You worded it as a second chance,” she said after a moment. “That means you remember when my mother first made the proposal for us, without consulting either of us first. Correct?”

“I do,” Andrea replied. “I remember how heartbroken I was when you refused.”

Josephine chuckled nervously. “We were twelve, and I was... selfish. I didn’t think she was serious, so I specifically worded my refusal as ‘we can’t get married, _yet_.’ The key word, I thought, was yet. That by saying that word, I was agreeing to marry you, not at that moment, but at a later time. I... thought it made us engaged, affianced, betrothed, whatever word you prefer. I...”

She took a deep breath, then continued, “It pains me to admit it now, all these years later. I cried the night after making that proposal, when my mother took me back home, _and left you behind._ I yelled at her, I was so angry. It hurt so much, to have my meaning so completely misunderstood by everyone. I demanded, with tears streaming down my face, to know why Mother had left you, my future wife, behind with a family you hate. It wasn’t but what, a year or two after that that we lost contact completely?”

“Great Aunt Lucielle fell ill with the same sickness that killed Mother, and nearly killed me,” Andrea replied. “She recovered, like I did, with help from the healers in the Circle of Magi, but she stopped hosting the parties, and when the host... host... uhh...”

She rubbed her hands together sheepishly, suddenly aware that Josephine had yet to let go of her wrist, as though afraid she’d leave despite their conversation if she let go. _This is the stupidest time to forget how words work._ “The hosting duty was passed along to other members of the family, not all of them ended up with the same guest list to invite. The Montilyet name got removed from the list, along with several others, around the same time Tomas forced Father off the throne.”

There was a moment of silence between the two of them, before Andrea spoke again, “You didn’t think your mother’s proposal was serious?”

Josephine shook her head slowly. “No. When she made the proposal, I... well, I mostly thought she was announcing her intention to take you with us. I did not think me stating that I didn’t want to get married yet would actually stop her from bringing you home with us. Somewhere inside my selfish twelve-year-old brain, I knew she was trying to protect you. I just didn’t know from what. Honestly, I’m not entirely sure that I know from what now. I’d assumed at the time it had something to do with those friends of your uncle. The ones with the roaming hands, the ones... that I stabbed with a fork when they dared lay a hand on my dress. I thought it had to do with them, and your family’s complete lack of doing anything about them.”

Andrea nodded. “It did.” She couldn’t completely claim to know the full reasoning behind Sylvia’s sudden proposal of marriage between her and Josephine when they were so young, but it had come just soon enough after she had informed Sylvia of... the bad things her Uncle and his friends had done to her, that it _had_ to be related.

Josephine arched her brow, but did not press for details, thankfully. Instead she lifted the arm she was still holding by the wrist and transitioned to holding her hand gently within her own. “‘For the worth of all the chocolates in Antiva,’” she murmured, echoing something Andrea had once said to her as she placed a gentle kiss upon Andrea’s knuckles. “‘I would never give up the chance to spend one more summer with you.’”

Andrea inhaled sharply. “You still remember that awful poem I wrote for you?”

“For what it’s worth, Andrea, even without properly courting me, had you proposed to me six years ago, I would have said yes,” Josephine replied. “We’ve both changed and grown so much in our time apart. It’s been, what, well over ten years since we were last able to truly be together, just the two of us. So much has changed,” as an emphasis on that, she used her free hand to trace the scar on Andrea’s jaw gently. “We need this chance, this... second chance.”

“To do things right,” Andrea replied. “To relearn all the things we thought we knew, and to learn all the things we never got the chance. The scar came from the duel.” It was something, at least. From so simple a beginning, endless things beautiful could be created.

“Jack supported me. He wanted me to be allowed to leave Ostwick and ask for your hand in marriage. Tomas was vehemently against the whole idea. Though I know not why, truthfully. Part of me believes it’s just because he’s a... well, I don’t think the descriptors I have for him quite suit the delicate nature of my present company.” She winked at Josephine who chuckled slightly. That sort of soft, gentle flirting was so uniquely them that she could never truly let it fade away from her memory.

“Jack challenged Tomas to a duel, my freedom at stake,” she continued. “Tomas agreed, and a Templar assisting with unloading a shipment of supplies bound for the circle was requested to give up her daggers so the duel would be fair. Neither Tomas nor Jack were trained with those weapons. The whole time I was there, insisting, crying out that there was no need for them to fight. I didn’t want to watch either of my brothers die that day.

“I tried to stop them, I grabbed Tomas’ arm and begged him to spare Jack, in exchange I’d give up and return home. Tomas had other ideas and when Jack came at him, Tomas pushed me in the way to act as a shield. By the time I’d realized what happened, I was on the ground, with Jack crying and muttering a healing spell as the Templar handed him something to help make the effects of the spell stronger. I awoke, and sat up, and told Jack not to heal me completely. I begged him to let it leave a scar. A permanent reminder of what it is I need to see done within my lifetime.”

“Which is?”

“Tomas must be dethroned and forced to pay for the crimes he’s committed while protected by the title of Teyrn,” Andrea replied.

Josephine nodded. “While I can think of plenty of reasons to agree with you on that, Andrea. Are you sure that’s what you want to do with your life?”

Andrea sighed. “It’s not,” she admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “But if he’s this cruel with our family, I can’t imagine how cruel he is to the average citizen of Ostwick, to those who need our family’s help and generosity. Who relied on the programs my mother put in place in order to earn an honest living without turning to banditry or selling their body. Sometimes you have to do things even if they’re not what you want. I don’t want people to be suffering if there’s something I could do to ease their pain.”

“So why not send for your sister Evelyn?” Josephine replied. “She was second in line, and from what I remember she was always trying to prove herself against Tomas, to prove she was more worthy than him. Your grandparents agreed with her. She’d be an excellent ruler.”

“Her second child was born a few months ago,” Andrea replied. “I don’t want to... I shouldn’t bother her with the problems in Ostwick when she’s got two small children she’s taking care of. Wouldn’t that just prove how weak I am?”

“She only just had her kids?” Josephine replied. “She must not be planning on continuing the family tradition of having seven kids.”

“She wrote me about it, there were two others, but they didn’t survive the year when they were born,” Andrea replied. “One could barely breathe when he was born, and the other went to sleep one night and just, never woke up. She told me she’d almost given up, then her daughter was born. Happiest, healthiest, cutest baby girl Evelyn had ever laid eyes on. She said with how much she could cry and scream, she expects that her daughter will be an excellent singer some day. I can’t take her away from that.”

Josephine nodded and pressed another kiss to Andrea’s knuckles. “I admire how much you care about other people, Andrea,” she whispered. “But you must learn to think of yourself sometimes.”

Andrea bit her lip and nodded. “I’m thinking of myself right now, Josie,” she whispered. “I’m thinking of how much I’d love to take you to Val Royeaux and treat you to a proper meal sometime soon. I haven’t gotten time alone with you in so long—”

As if right on cue, there was a knock on the door and a voice called through it. “Lady Josephine—” The way the person drew out the ‘e’ sound at the end of her name in such a cute way immediately reminded Andrea of how she used to say it when they were younger.

“I wasn’t aware there were children in Haven,” Andrea mused, half certain Josephine would reprimand her and remind her that Haven _was_ in fact a village that was home to more than just the Chantry and the Inquisition. “Seems like an awfully cold and remote place to try and raise a family.”

“That would be Sage,” Josephine replied. “She’s... not quite a child, depending on at what age you stop defining ‘child’ and start defining ‘teenager’ or ‘young adult.’ She’s the only person I’ve seen in Haven other than the servants and helpers that actually knock before entering a room.”

“How do you know her?” Andrea asked.

“She wants to be my apprentice,” Josephine replied. “You should meet her; I think you’d like her.” Then when Sage knocked again, she called out, “It’s okay, Sage, you can come in.”

“Nuh, Lady Minae said I can’t, she’s being mean,” Sage replied.

“I’m not a lady, and I’ve told you it’s ‘Mih-nay-veh’ not ‘Min-nay’,” Minaeve’s only slightly annoyed sounding reply reached them. “And I am not mean, Lady Montilyet telling you you can go in, overrules me telling you she’s too busy to be interrupted.”

The door opened and then closed again in just the right amount of time for Josephine to let Andrea’s hand go and moved to a respectful distance away. Andrea stared, though she didn’t mean to, as a young girl with hair the same deep chestnut red as Jack’s approached. It wasn’t the hair that drew her attention, it was the eyes. In the firelight of Josephine’s office, her eyes seemed to almost glow a brilliant topaz but other colors reflected across them like a rainbow trapped in the flickering light. It was mesmerizing. She blinked and looked away slightly when Sage tilted her head.

“I’m sorry if I’m interrupting something,” Sage said, half whispering.

“You’re fine, Sage,” Josephine replied. “Sage, I don’t think you’ve had the opportunity to be properly introduced to the Herald, have you?”

“I’ve seen her,” Sage replied. “Everyone in Haven has. You’re going to introduce me?”

Josephine nodded, and motioned to Andrea who bowed slightly. “Sage, this is Andrea. Her Lady Herald, Andrea Trevelyan of Ostwick, if you want to be technical. And trust me as my apprentice the nobility will _expect_ you to be technical.”

“I prefer Andrea,” she added as she straightened from the bow. “I won’t let anyone yell at you for calling me Andrea instead of using any of my titles.”

“I’m Sage.” She mimicked Andrea’s bow, adding when she straightened up, “Sage Bellamy, from some little village in the Emerald Graves, near the High Dragon’s nest, if my sister is correct about it. You’re from Ostwick, that’s up north across the Waking Sea, right? Is it warm there, like in Rialto?”

“Not quite as warm as Rialto,” Andrea replied. “We get more storms though, if you like that kind of thing. I’m not always sure if it’s something I should brag about, just because the thunder helped me sleep, doesn’t mean everyone’s as fond of the storms as I am.”

“So they’re normal storms?” Sage asked. “With thunder and lighting, not with scary monsters clawing their way out of the ground?”

Andrea and Josephine exchanged a confused look.

“If you were born in Orlais, what were you doing in Ferelden during the Blight?” Andrea asked. “How old were you?”

“Four or five,” Sage replied. “I don’t remember why we were there. I was so scared of it all. I thought the monsters would eat me alive while I tried to sleep. We left Ferelden before that huge battle in Denerim. We went across the sea, I think. I know we ended up in Antiva for a while. I liked it there.”

“Sage, I don’t mean to stop your conversation, but what did you come here to tell me?” Josephine interrupted.

Sage tilted her head then nodded. “The Lady Seeker, and the Griffon Commander asked me to fetch you. They said you’re late. Lady Nightingale didn’t want them to bother, as she saw the Lady Herald enter the room. But you’re late too, Lady Herald. For a meeting? Something like that.”

“The Griffon Commander, but not the regular commander?” Josephine asked.

“He’s there too but I don’t listen when he talks,” Sage replied. “His voice hurts my ears, sings silently with the songs held inside the lyrium. The Griffon’s voice sings too, but different. There’s no lyrium in their voice.”

“What do you hear on my voice?” Andrea asked. Sage seemed to be a rather unusual girl, even for someone who was most likely a mage—possibly one that didn’t even realize it. It couldn’t hurt to humor the girl. _I wonder how she hears all these things we can’t? Is that her magic, or is that just a skill she picked up somewhere?_

Andrea was aware of some of the ways Templars used to identify children with the potential to be mages before they actually came into their magic. Those kind of tells were exactly how Markus and Jack had been identified. Neither of them fully came into their magic until they were 16, but they went to the Circle for training when they were much younger than that. Markus had left at 12, his tell had been the nightmares, something whispering strange sounds to him as he slept. Jack’s tell was softer, subtler. Like Sage, it was all in his eyes. His eyes are the most brilliant yellow with white-blue streaks through them. The colors of lightning. He went to the Circle when he was 10, but he was allowed to visit home.

“In your voice?” Sage asked, and at Andrea’s nod continued, “In your voice, the softest of silent hisses, the sound of the wind against the water. You swallowed the sea as a child. The salt stings your breaths, and your body sings of the waves that pulled you under, even today.”

“Is it all a song to you?” Andrea asked. “When I was still a baby, before my brother grew to hate me, he thought you teach babies to swim by throwing them in the ocean. It worked for him, and all my siblings before me. But he missed a step, the step where Mama and Papa Trevelyan were in the water too, helping the babies stay afloat. Mother didn’t forgive Tomas for years. Ruined a brand new dress saving me that day. I still don’t know how to swim.”

“That’s how I learned to swim,” Josephine added. “Father tossed me off one of the docks to Mother who was wading in the water. From the way Father tells the story, to hear Mother’s shriek when he did that was to feel true fear. He said she though he was trying to kill me, it wasn’t until I swam right up to her, that she realized he wasn’t as stupid as she thought.”

“Not all a song, no,” Sage replied, after Andrea and Josephine had finished talking. “To hear my sister speak is to feel the flames of a fire that burn with little control. A warming fire, left to burn too long. To hear the Lady Nightingale speak is to understand the sound of silence.”

“What about the Seeker?” Andrea asked.

“She speaks with the light of Faith,” Sage replied. “‘As the moth sees Light, and goes toward flame. She should see Fire, and go toward Light.’” She shook her head. “I don’t think you should keep them waiting. Griffon Commander mentioned food.”

“Will you be joining us, Sage?” Andrea asked.

Sage shook her head. “The Lady Nightingale will not permit it until I pass my test,” she replied. “I’m almost done with it, Lady Josephine!”

“Keep working, Sage. The supplies are on the desk, I’ll be back after the meeting. The sooner you get that done, the sooner Leliana will stop accusing you of being a spy,” Josephine replied.

Sage nodded and headed around the desk. “I can use your chair?”

“Of course, Sage,” Josephine replied, motioning for Andrea to head out the door.

Andrea smiled as she led the way, stopping after opening the door. “Bye Sage.”

Sage did not reply, however, and Andrea looked back to see why. Sage was sitting on her knees in Josephine’s chair, leaned over the desk, with a quill held delicately in her fingers. She was writing slow and deliberate, passing her hand over the parchment on occasion and whispering something, avoiding smudging the ink with a concentration she’d really only ever seen from Josephine before.

“Once she’s started,” Josephine said, gently tugging on the edge of Andrea’s coat sleeve until she followed her and shut the door behind them. “Not even a Dragon attacking could steal her attention away.”

“She’s like you in that way,” Andrea replied. “Do you suppose this meeting is the one where Leliana and Cullen argue over the benefit of my agreeing—or not—to meet with the Clerics? I looked over the list of names that Mother Giselle supplied. Some of them I know from my time working under Revered Mother Emmaline. They can’t all truly believe I killed the Divine. Some of them are likely only speaking out because the others are too. Much of Chantry politics boils down to ‘repeat what the ones with more authority say.’”

“Whatever the reason for the meeting, I dread Leliana’s ‘I told you so’ look when she discovers that you gathered the courage to speak to me before I gathered the courage to speak to you,” Josephine replied. “I believe she had a bet with Cassandra.”

“More likely with Varric,” Andrea replied. “Or both. It is probably still a better look than that one she’s been giving us since I asked her to send for Jack. Oh, that reminds me. After the meeting, I need your help arranging a place for Jack to stay now that he’s here.”

“You didn’t bother making the arrangements before he arrived?” Josephine gasped. “You’re losing your touch.”

“I wasn’t positive he’d actually arrive at all,” Andrea replied, “but please do not tell Leliana I doubted Meiriana’s capabilities.”

“I won’t,” Josephine replied. “Still, one of us is going to have to tell Leliana—”

“Tell me what?” Leliana mused from the shadows of the door to the room where they made all their plans. “That the two love-birds have _finally_ taken the time to _speak_ instead of just casting fearful love-sick looks at each other from across the table like they’re not entirely sure the other one is actually real?” She smiled at them.

“Something like that,” Josephine replied.

Andrea nodded slightly. _Even her ‘I told you so’ look is terrifying. How does she do that? Why does she always look so scary?_

“Are you alright, Herald?” Leliana asked.

Andrea nodded and bit her lip momentarily before answering the question. “I’m alright, you just startled me, I didn’t see you in the doorway. That’s all.”

“I see,” Leliana replied. “Well, come, we have much to discuss and Meiriana is getting impatient waiting for you two. She’s counting on lunch after this meeting, an army marches on its stomach and each Grey-Warden is practically an army in their own right.”


End file.
